


Human Anatomy Fanatic

by elegant_fleuret



Series: Trash Can Girlfriend [5]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bruises, F/M, Fingering, Menstruation, Normal Human Female Routines, Pimple Popping, Skeleton madd creeping on you yo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5150033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegant_fleuret/pseuds/elegant_fleuret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten short drabbles of how embarrassingly interested Papyrus is in your human body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Human Anatomy Fanatic

**Author's Note:**

> A/N Idea inspired by halyconharlot and a few other anons over at my tumblr.

“You really wanna watch this?”  
  
Papyrus nodded his head so vigorously you swore his skull almost popped off. His bones rattled against the closed toilet seat he sat on, hands pitter-pattering eagerly against his kneecaps. The fact that you trusted him enough to do your human rituals in front of him made his metaphorical heart beat hard and his bones buzz in curiosity.  
  
“Alright, you weirdo,” you leaned against the bathroom sink to get as close to the mirror as you could without touching it. The insult you slung at the skeleton went right over his head, just like all the insults you threw his way. Knew for a fact you liked him too much to mean any of it and was just teasing. Instead he mimicked your actions, propping his elbows against the sink’s edge and craning his head as far as he could to watch you.  
  
The short fingers of one hand pulled the skin of your eyebrow taunt while the other held a pair of small, pink tweezers. Papyrus let out a small gasp as you started to pluck out the small hairs at a rapid fire pace. This hair removal didn’t seem to give you much pain, unlike when he absent mindedly pulled at your head hair and made you cry.  
  
One boney finger ran against the porcelain top of the bathroom sink, collecting the fallen hairs as they piled up. His skull cocked to the side as he examined them. Although all were very thin, varrying in length and how straight or curled they were. “Why do some of these have miniature pieces of rice on them?”  
  
The snort that came out of your nose was most unladylike. “It’s not- they’re called follicles. Hair grows out of them. When you forcefully pull out hair the follicle sometimes comes with it.” out of the corner of your eye you saw him nod his skull, drinking in every single word you said. “Here’s hoping I pluck these babies out enough that they’ll stop growing back in.”  
  
Papyrus didn’t understand why you wanted to stop your hair from growing in on your eyebrows, he found the two bushy buddies quite adorable, but just accepted it as one of your human quirks that he just would never get. Instead he spent the next few minutes gathering up your fallen hair soldiers, forming them into a small hair heart on the sink top. He would’ve kept them, found an empty jar to put them in, but you thought his idea was beyond fucking creepy and brushed his collection into the trash.  
  
\---  
“Oh, oh please! Can I do it? Can I? Please, please, plee~aaase?”  
  
It wasn’t too often that Papyrus whined at you, but when he did he went all out. On his knees, hands clasped in front of him, something akin to a pout on his face which would have much more effect on you if he had a bottom lip to jut out. But you relented, like you always did, just because it made him happy.  
  
“Alright, alright. Only because I can’t reach it,” the sigh you let out was for dramatic effect only, which Papyrus didn’t even hear over his own joyous shouting. The bed creaked as you turned around presenting your bare back to the skeleton.  
  
Papyrus was just over the moon, clapping excitedly as he positioned himself behind you, letting his longer legs slide past yours until you were nestled between his thighs. The light next on the bedside table added to the already light up room but he insisted that he needed it to properly see your back.  
  
Eight finger tips and two thumbs ghosted down the entire length of your back, Papyrus taking great joy when you rolled your shoulders at the stroke. It was exhilarating to see your shoulder blades moving under your skin so smoothly, so fluidly. To see the small trail of bumps of your own spine travel in the center of your back. If you’d let him, he’d spend hours just looking at you. But you always told him to ‘take a picture, it’ll last longer.’  
  
When his fingers ran over one particularly raised red bump you let out a hiss. “Okay, okay. Now, do it like I showed you. Finger tips on opposite sides then press down and together.”  
  
A bead of sweat appeared on his temple as he concentrated obscenely hard to do exactly as you had instructed him to do. After watching you pop the small whiteheads on your face for the past thirty minutes, leaving your skin dotted red and pink, that motions were more or less ingrained in his brain but he didn’t want to screw up.  
  
Your ribs extended under his hands as you took in a deep breath, held it, while he pressed the white topped bump of skin between his fingers. A gooey yellow substance burst through the surface, followed by a streak of bright red blood. It smeared slightly on his white finger tips.  
  
“Oh. My. God!” he yelled out in pure excitement. The new kind of human fluids, what you had called ‘pus’ was so… so different from the ones on your face. Those came out small and solid, some of them coming out kind of black and definitely no blood. His arm curled around your front to show you his handy work, blood and pus staining his fingertip. “Look! I popped you!”  
  
“Wipe it off on the towel.” God, that skeleton was disgustingly cute sometimes. Emphasis on disgusting. “How are you not grossed out by this?”  
  
“I adore even the most repulsive things your body can produce, human.” What made his sentence so silly was that he was sincere. With fingers cleaned off, and the freshly popped skin turning a bright pink, he sought out for another bump. About a dozen or so much smaller pimples dotted your back. Hormones was your simple explanation. Super cool human stuff was his. His fingers found their next target, a smaller skin toned bump under your right shoulder blade. “May I keep going?”  
  
“Pop your heart out, bone boy.”  
  
\---  
Papyrus loved watching you sleep.  
  
Loved the way your breathing became deep and slow, the rise and fall of your chest in a steady rhythm, up and down, up and down. Loved the drool that sometimes dripped down from your open mouth, a damp puddle on your pillow when you re-positioned yourself. Loved the small sounds coming from within your lungs and throat, a sort of scratchy snore when you entered your REM cycle.  
  
Loved when he lightly touched the flesh of your naked arm small bumps would raise on your skin. Loved the way your body, layers of skin and fat and muscles, let the bones of his own body sink in when he cuddled up close. Loved your natural scent, your sweat, your skin, your musky body order that you always covered up in the morning with deodorant.  
  
Loved the way your heart beat felt against his hard finger bones when he placed them against your hidden sternum. Loved the way he could feel your body being alive.  
  
Loved the way you woke up sometimes, caught his hollow stare drinking in every fiber of your being, and called him a fucking creep before passing out again.  
  
\---  
Being able to feel you from the inside was beyond mind blowing.  
  
Papyrus had spent so many years just knowing his own body, empty and hollow, void of anything but a skeletal structure, magic, and very fashionable clothes.  
  
But you. You had substance. You had layers. You had holes that didn’t just lead to empty air.  
  
“Get the fuck outta there!” Your hand landed a firm slap on his wrist, which he only let you do because he could not be bothered to dodge. His finger recoiled back from you with a faint pop. The angry scowl you flashed him made him cock his head.  
  
“How come I came put my fingers in all you other holes but not this one?” It was true, you had let him explore all your other openings. Your mouth, your vagina, your nose, your ears, your butt. How come he couldn’t cap off his human-hole roadmap with this one?  
  
The scowl on your beautiful face deepened. “I hate people touching my bellybutton. Flips me out.”  
  
He stared at the small hole in your stomach, traced his slapped hand down the trail of hair that ended at the top of your jeans. “Rightfully so. I don’t really like what I felt, that weird barrier, knot thing. It’s very freaky and unnatural and I have a feeling that if I push too far in I’ll be fingering your entrails!”  
  
For a moment you seemed to consider what he said before slowly nodding your head. “Yeah, sometimes I think that too. Which is why I don’t want you touching me there.”  
  
Both of you laid in silence on the bed for a few seconds before Papyrus made a move to stick his finger back in your belly button. Couldn’t help himself, the smile on his face so wide it might crack in two, especially as you fought so valiantly to get out of his grasp. “Pa-Papyrus, nooo, stop! You-you jerk! ARGH!”  
  
\---  
“Oh god. Yes-yes-yes, god, Papyrus, a~aah!”  
  
A pink blush had taken up residence on the skeleton’s cheeks as you writhed beneath him. Another there was no appendage on his body to show it, watching how you reached to his touch was the most arousing thing he had ever experienced. The bottom of his jaw sunk into the soft fat of your stomach, his favorite viewpoint, his middle and ring finger pumping deep within you.  
  
It amazed him that he could actually feel you muscles tightening and releasing under your skin. Feel your velvety walls clamping around his boney fingers, your naturally produced lubricant flooding out from deep inside to coat his digits. The diagrams of female human anatomy he studied for hours before initiating any type of sexual contact with you couldn’t even hold a candle to real life.  
  
He could feel the signs of your incoming orgasm before you came. By now he had it engraved in his memory, having an average of giving you at least one orgasm a day for the past four months. Practice makes perfect. The muscles in your lower stomach would contract at the same time you pressed your tailbone into the mattress. Your thighs would compress around his head (or arm or body), the plush fat conforming around his body for dear life. Your chest cavity would swell up as you drew in a breath and held it, eyes squeezes shut so hard, eyebrows furrowing.  
  
Pride burst throughout his bones as your orgasm burst throughout your body. As you shuddered hard, a shaky breath coming from your mouth before a few gasps, Papyrus kept his fingers in place. Anything to be able to have a part of himself inside of you for just a bit longer.  
  
One, long content sigh finally came from your lungs and your entire form relaxed. Clear sign that you orgasm had passed. Papyrus couldn’t stop beaming. “It seems that I, the Great Papyrus, has once again brought you the greatest pleasure that you could ever know!” Without looking up you twirled your finger and let out a small ‘whoopee’ which he accepted with a nod. “No need to congratulate me, my human, save your breath. You’ll need it for our second round of-”  
  
Like usual, while he boasted about himself he slid his fingers out of you and brought them up to his face to examine. Unlike usual, instead of the clear fluid they were usually coated with, his bleach white fingers where soaked in a deep red. Any color that was on his faced drained, a cold lump dropping from his throat to the bottom of where his stomach would be.  
  
“OH MY GOD. HU-HUMAN. YOU-YOU’RE BLOOD. BLEEDING. YOU, FROM THE INSIDE.” Fear took over all his other sense. His breathing came out hard, panicked, eyes darting from your face to his fingers to your crotch. Tears welled up in the corners of his empty eye sockets at the realization of what he did. “OH NO, IT FINALLY HAPPENED. I WAS JUST FAR TOO POWERFUL FOR YOUR FRAGILE HUMAN BODY AND NOW I’VE KILLED YOU. I’M GOING TO GO TO JAIL, HOW EVER WILL I SURVIVE?”  
  
“Oh, huh. I thought my cramps earlier where just from diarrhea, from that spicy fish taco I had for lunch,” you pressed you lips together in thought before shrugging, “I guess it was period cramps. Papyrus, you’re over reacting. Calm down.”  
  
Two streams of skeleton tears, which looked suspiciously like regular human tears, flowed down Papyrus’ skull. Skeleton boogers, which also looked suspiciously like human boogers, dripped out of his nose hole. He sucked in a large sniff trying to will it back up into his cavity. “What-what do you mean? Are you okay? Is there a punctuation inside of you? How did it get there?”  
  
“No, uuuh, didn’t you read up on that while studying on how to violate me?” At his dramatic head shake ‘no’ you continued, “Human females produce eggs and ovulate once a month if they aren’t inseminated. Which will never happen cause your monster jizz is magic and had no sperm,” you squinted your eyes at him hard, accusing, “right?”  
  
“Yes, yes, that’s right! It is all an illusion!”  
  
“Okay, good. Keep it that way. Anywho, my unfertilized egg gets released and my uterus goes through small contractions as it sheds its lining, ergo cramps that I thought were just my bowels. And, ta~da, I bleed out my cooter for a few days. Um, what are you do-“  
  
Your sentence was cut off as Papyrus jerked your pelvis up with one hand, his other popping his fingers inside of you and spreading you wide open. Thick, burgundy blood coated the entire length of your walls, as far as he could see in before they closed together. A few strung side to side, another balled up clump seemed to cling to your inner surface. Maybe it was the awkward angle he lifted you to but you swore you saw sparkles twinkling in his black sockets as he breathlessly examined you. “It looks like one of those human horror movies you made me watch. How disgusting. I love it!”  
  
“Papyrus, lemme go!”  
  
\---  
“Sonuvabitch!”  
  
“Swear jar!”  
  
Papyrus smiled at the glare you sent him. If it wasn’t for the fact you had just sliced your finger wide open with the small kitchen knife you would’ve threatened him with it. The open wound on your finger throbbed, pain shooting up your entire arm, as you popped the digits in your mouth.  
  
“Human, that is. Are you drinking you own blood?” Although very much serious about your debt to the swear jar Papyrus was also concerned at your pain. He picked out a band-aid from the first-aid kit on top of the fridge. He had to. Humans made such a mess when they got hurt.  
  
“Hey, I made it, I can swallow it,” your reply was muffled but your glare certainly was not.  
  
Reluctantly you took your finger out of your mouth and handed it to him, let him gingerly inspect it. Bright red blood leaked out from the slit in your skin, indents of teeth surrounding the flesh that you had just been biting, but besides that it looks shallow and not life threatening. Cuts in human skin were so interesting. If he looked close enough he could actually see layers, to top one actually a bit translucent in the right light.  
  
Slowly he wrapped the band-aid around your finger, before bringing the covered digit up to his teeth to give it a kiss. He nuzzled his cheek into the palm of your wounded hand, happy that you had yet to pull it back. “Please be careful, my human. I hate to see you in pain.” Your lips turned up into a small, bashful smile. “Even though its super cool to see your body react to pain!” Your smile immediately turned back into a frown.  
  
“Why do you always have to ruin our moments, you big bone head?”  
  
\---  
It was a Sunday night, the only night that Papyrus allowed himself to be as lazy as his brother. The pair lounged on their comfy couch, a bowl of popcorn between them, their favorite MTT program blasting on the television.  
  
It would have been counted as just another lazy Sunday if not for the fact you slammed open through the front door, scaring the bejesus out of both of them. The glare on your face might have made mere humans cower but the bone brothers just stared at you, both wondering why you were there. Sundays you spent at your own home.  
  
“Hey, buddy,” Sans said slowly, trying to gauge your bad attitude, “You, uh, you okay over there?”  
  
Instead of replying, clearly ignoring him entirely, you shot out your hands and pointed an accusing finger at Papyrus. “YOU.”  
  
The taller skeleton lifted his own hand to point at his chest. “ME?”  
  
“Him?” Sans chimed in, not wanting to be left out of your lover’s quarrel.  
  
A few hard stomps and you were standing in front of the brothers, who hadn’t even bothered to move from their positions on the couch. Papyrus let out a startled yell, Sans merely lifting an eyebrow, when you turned around and yanked down your pants.  
  
“Look what you did to me! You-you big brute!”  
  
A deep bruise marred the skin of your left buttcheek. Deep purple, red, blue graduated out in the very apparent shape of a hand. A hand that was made entire of exposed bone, without flesh to cushion that blow they had dealt.  
  
“Dude, I spent half the day wondering why my ass hurt every time I sat down. No more spanking!”  
  
Papyrus pouted. “But the fat of your bum makes waves when I spank it! And the popped blood vessels under your skin look super cool!”  
  
“Yeah, I’m really admiring your handiwork here, bro.”  
  
“SANS.”  
  
“Shut the fuck up, Sans!”  
  
“Swear jar!”  
  
You glared at both of the skeleton brothers, before noticing the bowl of popcorn between them. A few strides forwards and you grabbed the bowl, plopping yourself between the two on the couch. Easily you shimmied out of your pants, ignoring the fake-grossed out look from Sans. “I’m not putting money in the swear jar, I’m not putting my pants on, and I’m eating all the popcorn. This is payback.”  
  
\---  
“Hey, watch this.”  
  
Papyrus stared, transfixed on your hand that you held in front of his face. This was one of the raddest things that you could make your human body do, for sure. Four lines, tendons under your skin, traveled from the bottom of your fingers to your wrist. They danced under your skin in time with your wiggling fingers  
  
“Wowie…” It wasn’t often that Papyrus was left speechless but the wonders that was your body had that effect on him. Tentatively he brought his own hand up to yours, touched your tendons as you moved them. They felt hard but squishy at the same time and it just blew his mind. His own bare boned hand paled in compression. “You… You are so cool.”  
  
The smile you flashed him, so warm and accepting of his inquisitive behavior, made him blush. “Yeaaaah, I know.”  
  
\---  
Most of the time Papyrus had to manually hold back on his power.  
  
Like right now, as he jokingly tried to open up the bathroom door that you so valiantly attempted to shut close on him. It was just, it was so funny watching you exert all of your human energy in trying to do something he could do with just his pinky bone.  
  
“Can’t I just come in and watch? Pretty please?” His tone was obscenely teasing, ramping up his play-begging in order to make you play-mad. Which worked wonders as you screamed at him, trying to yank the last few inches between the door and doorframe closed.  
  
“For the last time,” you huffed out, trying hard to suppress the laughter that wanted to overshadow your annoyance, “You will never, ever watch me pee. Never, ever, ever! Leave me alone, you perverted creep!”  
  
Papyrus laughed hard as he let go of the doorknob. The door slammed shut, much harder than needed, and he heard you stumble backwards before it clicked locked. A few muffled shuffling came from inside, like you shimmying off your pants. He pressed the side of his skull against the door to be able to hear it clearer.  
  
“And get away from the door! Don’t listen to me pee! Freak!”  
  
\---  
It really boggled his mind when he would compliment you and you would disagree.  
  
He thought your stomach was beautiful, the way it rounded out from your body, how when you bent over the skin and fat rolled in mountains and valleys, how he could sink his thin finger bones into it with ease. You thought you needed to lose weight, to work out more, to eat less.  
  
He thought the hair that covered you was spectacular, from the thick stubble on your legs to the soft down hair covering your arms to the small tufts of hair at the bottom of your back. You thought you needed to make an appointment at the salon soon so wax them all off, embarrassed at the amount of natural growth on you.  
  
He thought the puckering of skin on your butt and thighs were wonderful, the texture created by fat depositing under your skin so interesting, so captivating that he couldn’t help himself but run his hands over the surface again and again whenever he could. You thought you had to do more squats, hated the way your ass wasn’t a perfect rounded globe of smooth skin.  
  
He thought your skin was a canvas of life experiences, from the pockmarks marring your cheeks to the whitened gouges of skin from past injuries to the purple spider veins bursting out from under the surface. You thought you needed to slather more make-up on your face to hide your flaws, ignoring the rest of your body as you covered it in clothes.  
  
The only thing Papyrus hated was how this surface, the place that he had waited years upon years to finally be able to be in, would be the cause of how much you could hate the body that he loved so dearly.


End file.
